“Is my neck still splotchy?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
Meridian rolled his eyes.
“How’s my breath?” Scar opened his mouth wide and exhaled a long haaah in Meridian’s face.
Meridian closed his eyes as if he were hanging on by a thread, teeth clenched. “Do that shit again, and I’ll chop you in your fuckin’ throat. And yes, your breath is fine.”
Scar ignored the way everyone was staring at them. They should be used to his and the Blacks’ antics by now.
The guest list had started relatively short, but as the days went on, more and more people stopped him and begged him to be able to come.
Now three-fourths of the headquarters personnel were there, filling the edges of the courtyard and waiting for him and Gage to apparently make Raven history.
Elias and his crew from wardrobe rushed to their seats, smiling like idiots—meaning Gage was about to enter.
Another two minutes passed.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand still another second, Gage turned the corner, lightly holding the back of Roz’s elbow.
Mirage and Zorion flanked him, dressed like their partners, moving with the same disciplined composure that made them so formidable.
Scar’s knees nearly buckled.
A wave of startled breaths, low murmurs, and gasps rippled through the courtyard.
If it wasn’t for Meridian’s strong palm on his shoulder, he might’ve passed out.
Gage was hooded, draped in a flowing silky jacket that glided with his every step. His cane was folded and gripped in his right hand, not an accessory or a crutch, just a part of him.
The lights fell on him perfectly, drawing attention to the 24-karat cross suspended from the diamond tennis chain around his neck.
A light wind cut through the atrium and lifted the back of his jacket, making him look like…like…exactly what he was.
A saint.
Halfway down the stone path, he released Roz’s arm and walked on his own with the confidence of a man who knew his own power.
Gage followed the curves to the end, stopping right in front of him with unerring precision, sensing exactly where he was supposed to stand.
Gage pulled back his hood slowly and tipped his face up toward him.
“You smell amazing,” he whispered. “I can pick you out of a room of a hundred men every time.”
Scar finally exhaled. “Damn. You look…you’re so…you…”
Gage smiled, lighting up Scar’s world. “I’m what?”
Scar shook his head. He had no words. He leaned into Gage’s ear and whispered, rough and honest.
“You just are.”
White Ravens
Gage
